


The Long Game

by McBangle



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash, Femslash June, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Rory Gilmore visits Michelle Obama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 06:52:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7304035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McBangle/pseuds/McBangle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paris interrogates Rory on her meeting with Michelle Obama.</p>
<p>------------</p>
<p>Paris scoffed. “Yes, yes, everything you do is adorable, we’ve already established that. But when you have a chance to influence the First Lady of the United States, you need strategy, not adorability.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Long Game

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](https://twitter.com/GilmoreGirls/status/746495260440723456?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw).

“Did she take ‘The Long Game’?” As usual, Paris swung the door to their home open from the inside before Rory could even raise the key to the lock. Time for Paris’s favorite tradition – their nightly interrogation.

Rory kissed her fiancée hello. “I’m happy to see you too, Paris. My day was lovely, thank you for asking. How was yours?”

Paris rolled her eyes, doggedly following Rory down the hall. “The First Lady is about to embark on a multi-day international trip on the eve of one of the most important elections of our lifetime. It’s strategically important that she know what the other side is up to. International flights are prime reading time, and the Senate Majority Leader just released a memoir, perfect for gleaning insights into potential Republican weaknesses. So. Did Mrs. Obama take Mitch McConnell’s memoir with her on her trip?”

“Paris–” Rory dropped her bag on their kitchen table, sighed, and turned to face Paris. “I brought the McConnell book, just like you asked me to.”

“You’re avoiding my eyes,” Paris interrupted, craning her neck and bobbing and weaving to stay within Rory’s sight lines.

“I brought McConnell’s memoir,” Rory continued patiently, “I told Mrs. Obama about knowing what the other side is thinking, and I gave it to her, just like you asked me to.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here.” Paris squinted. “Why am I sensing a ‘but’ here?”

“ _But_ , she picked a different book for her trip,” Rory finished, pouring two glasses of white wine for Paris and herself.

“Different book? What different book? Why was there a different book?” Paris never was one to let details slide. One of the many qualities Rory loved about her.

“Paris.” Rory raised an eyebrow, handing Paris her glass of Riesling, chilled perfectly to 7°C, just like Paris preferred. Rory took an experimental sip of her own glass. Perfect. Dry and acidic, just like her Paris. “The First Lady is about to embark on a multi-day international trip,” echoing Paris’s earlier words. “At a scant 288 pages, ‘The Long Game’ is hardly an apt title. It wouldn’t have even lasted through her first flight, let alone the entire trip.”

Paris considered Rory’s words, then nodded in agreement. “Good thinking, Gilmore. That’s why I chose you: you balance me.”

“ _You_ chose _me_?” Rory scoffed.

“So, what other books did you bring her?” Paris took a sip of her wine and then tapped a nail against the glass thoughtfully. “‘The Art of the Deal’? No – too obvious. ‘A Time for Truth’? Ugh, no, that bloviating blowhard is irrelevant ever since Indiana.” Paris suddenly looked suspiciously at Rory. “Rory? Exactly which books did you bring her?”

Rory dithered. Paris always could set her off-kilter. “Paris, she’s leaving on a long trip, and I didn’t know what she was in the mood for, and the Let Girls Learn initiative is so important and so I wanted to help her get in a properly literary mindset, so I just brought a small selection of favorites. A couple of classics, a few beach reads, some Swedish detective stories, Jane Austen _of course_ , the complete works of Shakespeare…” Rory trailed off.

Paris set down the wine glass and affixed The Gaze at Rory. Despite Rory’s three-inch height advantage over Paris, Paris had a way of making Rory feel as if she were towering over her. “Rory. You buried her in books, didn’t you? Gilmore, you brought half a library, didn’t you?”

Rory smiled sheepishly. “But you think it’s adorable!”

Paris scoffed. “Yes, yes, everything you do is adorable, we’ve already established that. But when you have a chance to influence the First Lady of the United States, you need strategy, not adorability.”

Rory kissed Paris on the top of the head. “Precisely, Paris, and _that_ is why _I_ chose _you_.”

“Rory,” Paris looked up at her lover, her last strand of patience fraying, “You gave Mrs. Obama the book that we wanted her to read, mixed in with piles and piles of irrelevant other books. You offered her several of your own favorites as alternatives to the one she was supposed to read. Do you not see what she didn’t take Mitch McConnell’s book with her on the trip?”

“Not really,” Rory admitted. “I honestly thought she would read them all. I would have.”

“Of course you would have, my love,” Paris patted Rory’s hand. “And that is why your strategy failed. If you want to maneuver someone into doing what you want them to do while making them think that they chose it of their own free will, then you need to surround your choice with less attractive options.”

“I see,” Rory advanced on Paris, her eyes glittering. “Was that how you convinced me to choose you?”

Paris scoffed, wrapping her arms around Rory’s waist. “I hardly needed to try. Look at the boys you dated before me. Idiots, every last one of them. And _that_ was entirely of your own choosing.”

Rory smiled down at her fiancée. “You make it sound as if you had liked me since Chilton.”

“What makes you think I didn’t?” Paris countered. “Remember Romeo and Juliet? And Sonnet 116?”

Even after all these years, Paris still could make Rory blush. “Well, you sure took your time letting me know how you felt.”

“What can I say?” Paris asked, twirling a strand of Rory’s hair around her finger. “I play a long game.”


End file.
